


The Five Decanters

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:22:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Five crystal decanters, three crystal and gold glasses - so much potential, so much magic.  Now there was just the task of explaining all of it to Goniff.  Well, along with giving him a stern warning, "No, Goniff, you can NOT send them home to your Mum!"





	The Five Decanters

Lynn was at the cottage with Meghada, deciding on what needed to be included on the next shipment from Haven, besides those ever so useful turkeys, when Caeide arrived. Meghada had gotten a call that her elder sister was coming, bearing a gift, but hadn't know just when she'd be there. As with all the Clans women, there wasn't a lot one could point to as distinguishing them from one another, except in this case, a sense of some underlying anxiety, a trace of sad acceptance. Lynn had to wonder just what caused that.

With a mischievious smile, Caeide had brought in an intricately carved wooden box, about sixteen inches long, standing about ten inches tall, and Lynn saw Meghada freeze, eyes widening, looking at Caeide in shock. "What, you weren't expecting to receive this, little sister?" Caeide teased her. "I don't know why not, the parents say it seems like you might be making good use of it now."

Carefully, Meghada opened the box, taking out five intricately faceted crystal decanters and three small crystal glasses. She then somehow unfolded the box, letting the top and front drop down to form a tray on which the decanters could be pulled forward from the now three-sided box. Tracing the symbols embossed on the front of each decanter, she closed her eyes, and shook her head. "I don't know how I'm ever going to explain," she said ruefully.

"With the truth, of course; you'll likely not get as much resistance as you might think; actually, it might go over remarkably well," Caeide grinned.

Lynn looked from one of the women to the others, and leaned closer to get a better look at the glassware; it was a beautiful set, surely, though the glasses couldn't have held more than a scant teaspoon, and three seemed to be a strange number, she'd have thought two or four, but not three. "What's to explain, and to whom?" she dared to ask. With the Clan, she knew she might get an answer and she might not, but they'd not mind her asking, and she'd not mind if they decided not to answer. It was a pretty good arrangement all around.

"Well, Caeide, do you want to explain?" said Meghada, with a tiny grin.

"Might as well, since I have to give you the formal reminder anyway," said the slightly older woman. Caeide was only two years older than Meghada, and while not a contract warrior, bore great responsibility in her own right, as the owner of Haven Farm, an enclave in Wales where much of the recently received enclave shares had come from.

"Very well. The decanters and glasses are part of a very, very old family tradition. No one knows which of our ancestors came up with this idea, but I can imagine it was the result of trying to read the mind of one of our more stubborn males, and trying to explain certain things to them as well. My own grandmother has said, on more than one occasion, that we, as a family, tend to be attracted to men who have, how did she put it, 'complicated tastes'; but that those same men, in almost all cases, have difficulties in clearly communicating those tastes, leading to a lot of unnecessary turmoil. The decanter ritual eliminated a lot of the misunderstandings and frustrations."

"There are five decanters, three symbols. The first decanter is traditionally filled with a clear liquor. The double swirl on the front just means an absence of a theme, so you have to know about the other decanters to understand it. The second decanter has two symbols, male first, then female. The third uses the same symbols, but in reverse order. Those are generally filled with darker liquors, the man's drink of preference in the one with the male symbol first, the woman's drink of preference in the other. The fourth and fifth are filled with different brandies, the fourth showing only the male symbol, the fifth only the female symbol."

"Okay, I'm with you so far," said Lynn, "but what's the rest of it?"

"As I said, the first decanter means there is no set theme; let's start and see where we end up, if you will. The second means the man directs all intimate activity; the woman has the right to refuse any activity that truly upsets her or makes her fearful, but it's not considered appropriate to make this a common thing, since it negates the whole purpose of learning about each other. The third decanter gives the woman the right to direct all activity; same caveat applies. The fourth, bearing only the male symbol, indicates acceptance of pleasure; no, how do I put it, procreative activity is to occur, though all else is encouraged if it gives pleasure to the male. Note, the female is again in charge here; she gives as she sees fit, the male only receives and cannot even make suggestions, though I'm sure there's plenty of body language in play," as they all laugh. "Of course, if the woman also received satisfaction along the way, there's certainly no rule against it, and it's amazing the amount of pleasure you can get while giving pleasure. The fifth decanter, is the same, but with roles reversed."

"In our parents's house, the decanters rested atop a sideboard in the library; it was my mother's place to keep the decanters full; my father's place to select a decanter each evening and fill each of their glasses. My mother did, however, on occasion take the liberty of pushing one of the decanters slightly forward, as a hint," as both women laughed.

"Grandmother said that in some households, the decanters are on view, but never used; in other households, used a great deal in the beginning of a relationship, but as familiarity and knowledge increased, used less. My parents found it a pleasant daily ritual, though Mother said she usually knew which decanter Father would reach for before he even left his seat. And no, not because he always reached for the same one, just that she'd come to know him so well."

Lynn hesitated and then spoke, "Do all five decanters really get used? I mean, do many of the men actually select the third and fifth decanters? Even the fourth one seems suspect, if they can't even make suggestions!"

Meghada laughed and said, "Remember, this ritual started because of our predilection for men with complicated tastes. Wanting to share, wanting to command and take, wanting to be commanded and taken, wanting to receive, wanting to give - all of this within one man is probably a good working definition of 'complicated tastes'. So the answer is 'Yes', maybe not all in equal proportions, but much more than you might imagine."

"Do you have your own decanter set?" Lynn teased, though she was immediately sorry she had done so.

Caeide flinched and went very still, almost as if Lynn had struck her, "No," she said, "I've no need of a set," she whispered. Lynn reached out her hand to touch her in apology, but the woman tried to smile and shook her head.

"So, why three glasses?"

Meghada looked at Caeide and they both looked at Lynn, "let's just say some bondings are more complicated than others and leave it at that," Meghada smiled gently. 

 

Meghada sat staring at the decanter set her sister Caeide had delivered to her, as was traditional after a bonding, her thoughts roaming, drifting. True, they hadn't discussed it, not in those words, 'bonding', she and her love; hadn't really talked about the future, not with the war on. She didn't worry about that, the formal words, had no need or desire for a bonding ceremony, some in her family had one, some didn't, that was just based on the individuals involved; it didn't affect what was real, the bonding itself. For the two of them it was just a given, though she had felt the final settling into place when he casually mentioned to her that in the last letter he'd sent to his Mum and Aunt Mollie, the ones that now went out in her pouch to avoid the censors, that he'd told them about her, that they'd be meeting her after the war, and they'd visit the two in New York, and the two of them could visit here maybe. When he looked over at her, no hesitation in his manner or his face, and added, "I don't know that they'd want to leave New York, they've settled in and 'ave friends there, but it would be nice if they were closer to us, like, though that's their choice," that she knew it was as settled in his mind as it was in hers.

Still, the future had a way of sneaking up, and it would be foolish not to give it some thought. She knew the Clan would be willing for them to take over the pub, them having bought it at her behest after that nonsense with the former owner; {"wonder if he'd fancy us owning the pub? Could keep a manager for it, maybe, just like now, least til after the war, after that 'duration plus six months'; I'd be on hand for consulting, before and after, but I don't want the managing of it, might make his taking it over seem like . . . It would be a good investment, give us a real stake in the village, and be something he might enjoy. He's the social one, he is, when he's not having to worry about things. He'll need something like that, he can't keep climbing in and out of windows forever! And I want him with me, not serving another spell in quod."}

She'd also thought of buying other cottages in the village, especially if the ones closest to her own three became available, though she'd also toyed with plans to have another one, maybe two built on the adjoining plots she owned, and was considering an actual stores building, freeing up the far cottage for more traditional use. She did intend to join the middle cottage to her own, maybe even all three of the existing cottages; that wouldn't be difficult, and the local workmen would be happy for the jobs. Only thirty feet or so separated the outside walls, enough for extra rooms between each existing cottage, plus a hallway thru. That next cottage was a bit bigger, and and instead of setting it up like hers, with a tiny library/office and her bedroom, that cottage was currently arranged with one larger bedroom, a small kitchen and lots and lots of storage. That could stay, or it could be one bedroom and a office, perhaps with a Murphy bed. The third cottage really had no inner walls, just a couple of timber supports, so it could be set up however.

When it really came down to it, what she was considering was an Enclave, a small one, true, but the lads were known here, and liked. Maybe they'd want to go back to their old lives, maybe not, but it'd not hurt to have a place to call their own. Even the ones like Actor who'd most likely continue the game, even for him it might be good to have a base of sorts. And as part of the agreement her Clan had with the British government, (many governments, truth be told, in many countries), any land owned by Clan members and designated an Enclave was like its own small kingdom, pehaps an embassy, even when nestled within the borders of a foreign land. That provided an extra layer of protection as well. And if none of that came to be, well, owning land, property was rarely a loss, and the Clan always glad for another outpost. Her thoughts drifted onward, then drifted back to the decanters now sitting atop the wall shelf next to her small piano.

The decanters, according to the women of her family, were quite valuable in sorting things out with the complicated men they were drawn to. Even if she had wanted to, she though ruefully, she couldn't avoid the subject, not with Goniff. The heavy glass decanters were bright with facets, the symbols written on them outlined in gold, the glasses intense in color - blue, rose, (and the third one, amethyst, she looked at with an amused smile), with gold rims and inset in gold chasings; her love was a magpie, immediately attracted to anything like that; he'd spot them as soon as he entered the room. She'd just have to explain, among everything else, that these were NOT something he could send home to his Mum!

Well, while explaining the set to him might be initially awkward, or maybe not, she thought with a smile, it should prove interesting. He kept surprising her, in so many ways. Would he hesitate, would he stick to the first, or would he eagerly chose, one after the other, with the rare delight he could sometimes show in life?

No, it was something else that bothered her, the sadness, the resignation on Caeide's face when Lynn asked her if she had a decanter set as well. Caeide has replied, "no, I've no need of a set," with a really poor attempt at a smile. Meghada had always accepted that the Ta-Shea didn't have a set; well, of course the Ta'l didn't either, being unbonded. But, the Ta-Shea, like her sister, were bonded, they just had not been bonded in return, not yet, perhaps never, but they themselves were bonded. Certainly the set would not be used until her love bonded to her in return, or at least til a compromise was made with the one she loved, but why was she not granted a set? It would represent hope, possibility, something physical to represent her bonding in the absence of all else. Not to have a set seemed to her, now that she thought of it, now that she had a set of her own to treasure, like the bond was somehow discounted as having less worth. No, she had never thought of it before, and that brought a shadow of shame to her face, but now that she had, she intended to talk to the family about it. She fancied a chat with her mother and grandmother anyway.  
.

She'd known it, she thought to herself in amusement. As soon as he walked into the sitting area, his eyes snapped to the decanter set.

"That's new, idn it? Pretty, what with all that gold and the way it sparkles in the light." He reached out and picked up one of the glasses, turning it around in his hand, "Wouldn't 'old much, now would it?" looking at her questioningly. She looked at him ruefully.

{"Mid-morning, it is. Somehow, when I pictured the explaining of the decanters, I'd thought it would be early evening. Well, things have never been quite like you'd think between us, why start now?"}

"Yes, Caeide delivered it while you and the lads were on that last mission. It's a piece of my history, a part of who I am, and something you've a need to know about and understand. But maybe a cup of tea would make it easier." {"Surely it's a bit early to suggest anything stronger, though I feel I might need it!"}.

"You sit, I'll fetch it in," he said with one of those eager smiles she loved so. Even though he left his masks at the door now, she'd discovered that many of the qualities he'd used to form those masks were really an inate part of him to some extent, just not in as exaggerated a form as with his masks, and she rejoiced with every new discovery. She couldn't imagine anyone who would have suited her, who would have pleased her better than this ever-so-surprising Englishman. While he was doing that, she moved the set, box and all, to a small low table she set up in front of the wingback chair she favored.

Once they were settled, she took a sip of her tea, looked over at him and smiled. Suddenly he had the feeling he needed to brace himself, like he frequently did when he ran into another part of what he called 'the Clan in 'er'. Lifting a brow, he inclined his head, "Well?"

Carefully, solemnly, she explained the history and use of the set; his eyes squinted at her, turning thoughtful at some things, widened at others. When she'd finished, he looked at her, started to speak, stopped, got up silently and left the room.

She sat in dismay, surely he hadn't just left?? Hearing noises in the kitchen reassured her somewhat, but still, to just leave that way? 

He came back in, with two glasses filled with strong drink from the bottle in the cupboard. {"Not bourbon, unfortunately that's finished. Looks like the whisky."}

He handed her one, settled himself again, took a very deep breath and said, "Alright, let's 'ave that one more time, about the meanings of the different ones," as he downed half the glass in one gulp.

She giggled to herself, sipped from her own, {"yes, much more suitable than the tea!"} and started again. As he listened to the choices: no set plan, man ordering/woman submitting, woman ordering/man submitting, man receiving but not directing pleasure, woman receiving but not directing pleasure, along with the restrictions on the second and third, and the very different restriction on the fourth and fifth, he frowned, deep in thought, looking at her, back to the decanters, back over to her.

"And this is common in your family, is it?" just wanting to be sure he really was hearing what he thought he'd heard. "And they're used?" 

"Well, to have the choices is common. Of course, for some, the symbols are a bit different," she smiled, and he remembered that bondings weren't necessarily between male and female, or not exclusively. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to keep all this in mind!

"Whether they are used, and to what extent, that varies. Grandmother says that while all keep the set out on display once they're given them, with some few, they are only that, a display of Clan history. For most, however, they are used, with some occasionally, with others, as a constant. With my own parents, it was a daily ritual. Every morning my mother would check the decanters to be sure they were full, dust them and the glasses; it was important to her, she said, that daily attention, even though the level hardly would have dropped much in any of them, since the glasses held so little, and with them being used pretty equally, at least with them. It was the touching, the acknowledging, that was what was important, the knowing, she'd say with a tiny smile. Every night after supper, my father would walk over and very solemnly study the decanters, first touching one, then another, looking back at my mother consideringly, teasing her, watching the expression in her eyes. Eventually he'd select one, pour from it into each of the glasses, blue for him, rose for her, and together they'd drink."

"You're right, they don't hold much, probably a teaspoon at most, but it's the message that it held, that was what was important. She told me that, sometimes, she'd scoot one of the decanters just a tiny bit forward as a hint, and sometimes he'd laugh and choose that one; but that sometimes, he'd give her a truly sly smile, and choose one that was much different. Said either turned out equally well, sometimes better than what she'd thought she'd prefer actually!" with a laugh.

"Only in the evening? And after supper? I'd have thought at bedtime." he asked, with a slight smirk.

"Well, at least in the evening. Knowing them, I'd imagine the glasses were sometimes given extra duty. And then, nothing is said that the glasses had to used every time!" she grinned over at him.

"As for right after supper, they both said that the delay, that span of time between supper and the closing of the bedroom door, was very pleasurable, increasing the tension, the anticipation, and, if other than the first decanter had been selected, giving time for, you might say, planning a strategy."

Then he frowned, almost afraid to ask. "What about the pretty purple one still in the box?" touching the third glass.

{"Okay, now we get to the complicated part."}

"Well, all bondings are complicated at some level, some are perhaps more so. Sometimes it's that bondings aren't just between two, they can be between three (in rarer cases, even more)" as his eyes widened til she almost laughed, thinking of a horse ready to shy away; then, however, his gaze became distant, speculative, and she knew he was thinking of someone who might just relish that 'pretty purple one'.

"Sometimes it's that the interaction itself is more complicated, with perhaps one partner taking on more than one role, though at different times, of course, and so needing more than one glass for themselves".

He started to say, or maybe question, something, then decided against it.

{"I really hope he doesn't ask me to explain that, at least not right now; surely there's enough other to consider!"}. That's why the glasses themselves represent individuals, not 'man' or 'woman'. We each select what we want to use; it's just a glass, but it's OURS for all time. If one has two different roles to play, they have two glasses, each representing only one of those roles. That's why on some sets the symbols on the decanters can be slightly different; there's a set of little jeweled rings that go with the third glass, to clarify things, sometimes the bonded ones just add little chains with new, different medallions to the neck of the decanters, giving expanded meanings. That's simpler than just adding on new decanters," she said with a wide grin, "I mean, with a truly complicated bonding, eventually you could run out of room even with a truly long sideboard!"

Goniff thought to himself, {"I'm pretty sure I'm not ready for figuring all that out; maybe another time!"}.

As if all of this hadn't been enough, as if to further disconcert him, she added, "if additional glasses are needed, a simple call to the Clan can arrange it. I think I remember having seen a jade green, a turquise, one in ruby, perhaps another in amber. Tradition must be upheld, you know."

They sat together peacefully, his eyes drifting back to the decanters again and again. She knew, in his mind, he was trying to see what each really meant, what they offered, as he tasted the possibilities on his tongue. He might reject the possibilities, and just stay with the first one, letting things happen as they developed, as they had been doing. There was certainly no harm in that. However, from the increasingly speculative look in his eye, the tentative way he was now licking and then biting at his lips and glancing over at her, and, of course, from the change in the fit of his khaki trousers, she rather doubted that. She was starting to taste the possibilities herself, wondering what he'd choose for this time, what he'd choose to explore in the future. She discovered she could easily see herself in each role, relishing each in turn; {"I know this is about letting our partner discover and explore their own needs; but . . . although he'll have the choice, I'm starting to hope he will at least explore all the possibilities."}

He glanced over at her, slowly reached out to run his thumb over the top of each decanter, looking at her eyes as he touched each one. To her mind, it was almost as if he was stroking her at her core as he touched each decanter. She felt herself clinch, a low shiver running through her body, and her own lips start to swell slightly in response. After he had touched each one, he started trailing his fingers across the set again, and this time settled on one, and pulled the stopper, (she inhaled sharply at his choice, and swallowed deeply) pouring just a few drops into each of the two glasses sitting on the tray; she knew she needed no delay to increase the tension, the anticipation, not for this time anyway.

Then she was the one to be surprised, when he said, giving a small secret smile, "we'll just finish this, then you can give me a walk around the gardens. Shouldn't take more than an hour or so, I'd think."

However would she last that long?? And could she keep her mind together enough to carry on a conversation? Well, with his selection, at least she didn't have to try to do any planning as well; anticipating, oh, yes, but no planning as such. At the sound of the tiny whimper she let out, she heard him reply with a low, raspy chuckle.


End file.
